


Candy

by CrabbyMaiden



Series: Puns for the Soul [3]
Category: Horrortale - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horrortale, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxious Sans, Bubbly Reader, Candy Shops, Carefree Reader, Cunnilingus, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Edging, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grumpy Sans, I have no idea what I'm doing, Oral Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sans Is A Dick, Slice of Life (ish), Slight Angst?, Smut, Soulmates, Writer Crab Hijinks, gift-fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrabbyMaiden/pseuds/CrabbyMaiden
Summary: Who would've thought that all it took to reel in your soulmate would be a tacky candy shop?Part of a trade/gift-fic with Sonamyluffer1011(Previously named "Pretty Mary Sunlight")





	1. Hey, Ho, Here She Goes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sonamyluffer101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamyluffer101/gifts).



> A gift-fic for the lovely Sonamyluffer1011~ I hope you like it, deary~!
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: Changed the name because it didn't really fit the more I thought about it. (whoops)

There were many things in this world that Sans resented.

 

 

Having lived in a cold, cruel environment for so long, it had chewed up his old, pun-loving and friendly self and made him into the _thing_  he was today. A friendly skeleton he was no longer: now he was harsh, bitter and a tad more unstable than he cared to admit. He had seen and done things that no being - human or monster - should have to suffer through and taking a step back, he could clearly see that there was nothing but his own apathy to blame. Hindsight was 20-20, after all.

 

He resented himself, the world around him and most of all: _you_.

 

_you-you-you._

 

If Sans were to describe you with one word, it would probably be " _sunny_ ".

 

Followed by a multitude of other words, such as soft, _naive_ , bubbly, _persistent_... Warm _._

It was as if the sun itself broke off a piece of itself and molded you: there was simply an aura about you that just...  _glowed_  and it drew him in like a siren's call _._  At least, that's how it felt when the two of you had first met. One moment he had been out, storming down a sidewalk after a particularly _annoying_  day of work and somewhere along the trek home, his chest began to hurt. He was vaguely concerned and had been focusing on searching the UnderNet for symptoms of _falling down_  when a ringing in his skull made him look up to scratch at the hole in his cranium.

 

Like a beacon of light, you caught his attention immediately.

 

Clad in a lemon yellow sundress and an oversized, white sun hat, you were cheerily passing out flyers to help support the grand opening of a candy shop and proudly telling anybody that would listen that it was the best candy in the world. People just naturally listened to you, accepting the slips of paper with smiles of their own before carrying on their way. It made the skeleton's magic churn to see someone that looked like they would literally vomit sunshine and fart rainbows: you were just _too_  chipper. 

He had fully intended on brushing past you, pointedly avoiding eye contact as he rubbed his pounding chest, but you had practically thrown yourself in his path with a toothy grin on your face as you handed him a flyer. "Good afternoon! Please come to the " _Sweet Peeps Treats_ " on the sixth for our grand opening! We'll be giving out free chocolates and caramels!"

 

Sans took one look at the rainbow pastel flyer covered in tiny, baby chickens, flowers and cupcakes and knew instantly that he would _never_  step foot in that store. It was already overloading his senses disgustingly _cute_  drivel that matched _you_  perfectly and made his eye ache and his skull throb. So without much heed to the promise of free treats, he stared you right in the eye as he crumpled the paper and tossed it over his shoulder.

He had expected you to gasp, curse, yell or  _something_  similar, but no. You simply smiled, shook your head and wagged a scolding finger at him as you told him that littering could land him a fine of $900 and a year of community service in Ebott City. It left him speechless, even as you stooped over to pick up and uncrumple the flyer like the goody two-shoes you were, chattering on about "environmental responsibilities".

 

That was when he started to notice the odd, aching feeling in his chest warping into what could be described as "fuzzy little butterflies" swarming inside him. It was startling, truth be told, and it left him staring at you with a deer-in-headlights look that you didn't even notice. You were too busy _smiling_  and placing the folded-up flyer in his hand while carrying on about the confectionery goodness that was to be had if he came by on the sixth.

 

Your hand grazed his: a  _warm_  pulse hummed to life deep in his ribcage, making his breath hitch.

 

He promptly ditched you like a Jerry. 

 

For the next week, this pattern continued. He would stomp home with a heavy ache in his soul; you would intercept him and _insist_  he should come and see your stupid candy shop. Each day, that _horrible_  feeling would bloom into warm fuzzies at the sight of your smile and the sound of your voice. He would actively _try_  to get you to leave him alone, but you were either too boneheaded or too _determined_  to take a hint and kept trying to get him to show up on the sixth.

 

His blood red eye didn't scare you, his cracked and broken skull didn't disturb you, his hissing didn't spook you and his rude remarks didn't deter you.

 

"It would be really _sweet_  if you would come!" 

 

" _bite me_."

 

You were practically _excited_  to ramble about candy to him every single day, despite not even knowing a single thing about him and it didn't miss his notice that you always gave him more attention than any other schmuck you threw flyers at. You- _oh_ , he hated how _happy_  you were; not even the most morbid of jokes or snide comments could make you falter and it made him want to claw his eye out in frustration. You would simply smile serenely at him and remind him that the "Sweet Peep Treats" candy shop would open on the sixth.

 

"I really think you should come!" you would say with a knowing twinkle in your eyes.

 

"i really think you should _buzz off_." he would snap, recoiling away from you as though you had burned him.

 

But... For some godforsaken reason, the reason he hated you was the same reason he _adored_ you and he didn't even know _your_  name! With every interaction... Every "Good afternoon, mister!"...  It drove a deeper crack in the stoic armor he had put around his battered soul _years_  ago and you just kept chipping away at him until he _craved_  to hear your voice. He dissected your words and movements, trying to discern if there was something more to you, maybe something hidden you were trying to tell him.

 

Sans tried to find _meaning_  behind your airy chit-chat and he had to fight back the gnawing urge to start _following_  you. To find your home, _get inside_  and soak up every bit of information you had carelessly left around until he could proudly declare that he _knew_  you and you would be _his_. He wanted to _dig-dig-dig_  and find out more, but _no-no-no_. He wouldn't let himself get _obsessed_. He couldn't let himself drop his guard, couldn't let himself rest- if he got too involved, he knew that would be the instant you vanished from his life, leaving him to pick up _more_  broken pieces of himself.

 

No, he couldn't let himself have anything more than your cheerful smile. He couldn't risk it...

 

Even though Sans was already hopelessly obsessed and head-over-heels for you.

 

The reality of it sank in when he found himself waking up midday with a passing thought that it was now the sixth and the candy store would open at noon. There was a mournful jab in his chest when he thought to himself that the day before had been the final day you would be passing out flyers for the grand opening of "Sweet Peeps Treats" and he was honestly shocked by how _anxious_  that made him. You wouldn't be there anymore when he was heading home from work. You wouldn't be there to smile at him, to ask how he was doing, to _light up his day_...

 

Sans had shot out of bed, panic clawing its way up his throat as his soul hammered painfully at the thought of never seeing you again. He _hated_  you! He _loathed_  your stupid smile and your soft curves and your persistence- what was he _thinking_  when he was trying to scare you away!? He wrenched at his empty eye socket and clawed desperately at the wound on top of his head, cursing his _stupid-stupid-stupid_  mistake of trying to blot out his _sunshine_. He _should_  have let himself get closer to you! He _should_  have been kinder to you! 

 

The week of constant light was held tightly in the forefront of the mind, _warming_  him to his dark, cold core and just the _thought_  of never seeing you- _his sunshine_  again left his bones rattling in fear.

 

He didn't really know _when_  this feeling settled deep inside of him. He didn't know _why_ : it didn't matter.

 

It took him a whole minute to throw on decent clothes and sprint out the door, leaving the door ajar and a _very_  confused Papyrus staring after him as he clutched a pale pink, wrinkled flyer in his hand. He might have just took a shortcut, if his racing mind had even considered that, but he was too desperate- too _focused_  on seeing _you_  again that it just didn't occur to him. No, he _ran_  those twelve blocks, his chest heaving and bones groaning from the sudden and _unappreciated_  exertion he was putting them through.

 

He didn't care: his _sunshine_ was drawing him in like a moth to a flame. 

 

So, when Sans came screeching to a stop beside you, in front of a cutesy-cute shop down on 5th and Main, the wide-eyed look you gave his doubled-over and panting form was fully expected. He had to rest his hands on his knees, leaning forward precariously as he tried to catch his breath while you just gaped at him openly with a look of concern and it clicked that he _finally_  managed to wipe that damn smile off your face. Albeit at the expense of nearly sending himself into a monster's equivalent of an asthma attack, but it seemed so _worth it_  when your expression slowly morphed into an even _brighter_  smile than ever before and he liked to think that it was because of _him_.

 

"You actually came..." you murmured in awe.

 

"f-fuh... fuggedaboutit, suuh... sunshine," he wheezed out pathetically.

 

It took him several long moments to catch his breath and he guzzled down water from a bottle you had kindly offered him, but he eventually recovered from his stunt while vowing to himself to _never_  do that again. It didn't stop you from beaming at him though and he could tell from the way you clasped your hands over your chest that you wanted to reach out and hug him or something, but the week of him flinching away from you prevented you from doing so. He was grateful, since he was fairly sure that if you had done so, he would have melted right then and there.

 

His soul never stopped pounding, but he managed to clear his throat and motion to the door of the shop. "gonna open up?"

 

There was a mischievous twinkle in your eyes as you happily told him; "Oh! I don't work here! I just think it's too cute and then I thought: "Oh! This is my chance to find my soulmate!" and I offered to hand out flyers for them."

 

He blinked at you owlishly.

 

_soulmates_.

 

Good god, the thought had never crossed him mind, but now that _you_ said it... It made perfect sense and he was legitimately kicking himself for not noticing sooner. The pains in chest wasn't symptoms of _falling down_ : his soul was pitching a fit over being away from its _mate_. He felt the urge to slap himself and laugh uncontrollably. It had all been part of your _plan_  to hand out vomit-inducing flyers in hopes of finding your "one and only"? It was the most far-fetched idea he had ever heard: even Papyrus' over-the-top puzzles and japes sounded logical in comparison, but here you stood, victorious in your scheme.

 

Unsure of what else to do, Sans had given in to the desire to laugh like a madman.

 

**XxX**

 

About three years after meeting, the two of you had long-since fallen into a happy relationship and were looking to settle down.

 

A house had been bought on the outer edge of town: close enough to everything you needed and far enough away to grant Sans the privacy he so desperately wanted. He had wanted Papyrus to come along too, but the taller skeleton had insisted that the two of you go about this on your own: something about love-canaries nesting and Mettaton wanting to open a hotel with Papyrus as the head chef in the restaurant. Needless to say, Sans wasn't _thrilled_ about that, but you had pointed out that there would always be a guest room open for his brother to visit and he begrudgingly let it go.

 

The next day, you had presented him with a blue, egg-shaped device. "It's a Tamagotchi!"

 

He dangled it by its keychain, glaring at the unhatched egg on the screen despite your obvious excitement. "ah-huh."

 

His dark mood didn't even make you bat an eye and you slapped the care instruction on the table he was moping at. "You're the kind of guy that needs something to love on! I was thinking about surprising you with a puppy, but I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable with that, so... Tada! A digital pet!"

 

His unblinking eye flicked between the device that had started to shrilly beep at him to signal the egg was hatching and the wide grin on your face that said you were far too pleased with your idea. The blob on screen bounced around a bit before beeping at him again, clearly demanding _something_ and it took all his patience to drag the instructions closer so he could get the damn thing to shut up. It, like many of your other plots, worked out swimmingly and he found himself redirecting that pent-up frustration and caretaker-urges into raising and overfeeding the little digital monster.

 

Yes, the two of you were quite different from one another: you were the happiest person Sans had ever met while he was probably the most deranged you would ever come across. You wore nothing _but_  pastels (mostly in the form of cute skirts and dresses) and he dressed like he crawled out of a dumpster after fighting to the death with a giant opossum. He thought tacky horror movies were _hilarious_  and you never failed to shed a tear at a romance. He liked food and you... Uh... You seemed to really like _weird_  food combinations.

 

Peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, vinegar in your ice cream, dipping Cheeto's in honey and matcha powder... You were _eccentric_  to say the least.

 

Though Sans liked to think that your oddities balanced each other out... Like night and day, the sun and the moon, light and dark... Yada yada.

 

He had naturally gotten used to your strangeness over time, your unique personality acting as a balm that curbed his more... _Violent_  tendencies. The moment he would start to get twitchy or impatient with a cashier, you'd swoop in out of nowhere, shoving a magazine in his face and pointing at a recipe that you thought would taste _so_  much better with a hearty helping of honey mustard and soy sauce. If someone looked at you appreciatively and he felt the urge to bash their head in, you would take your linked hands, spinning him around until you had him dipped low in your arms as you planted a no-nonsense kiss on his teeth.

 

A squeaky wheel on a shopping cart grating on his nerves? You'd babble over it about a left-field theory that you think Martians exist but left Mars to hide out in the center of Jupiter because they didn't like their neighbors, i.e Earthlings.   

 

You were precious, really. You were too pure for this world and he had to stamp back the instincts pressing him to hide you away from prying eyes on a daily basis. As tempting as it was, he could just see that being confined indoors would crush the light out of you, especially since you drug him out every weekend to go around window-shopping. You liked smelling the flowers, watching kids play in the park, getting ice cream down at the parlor shop, playing with the animals at the local shelter...

 

It was also fair to say that he was a bundle of nerves when he left you home alone late at night to plod away on the assembly line at the factory he worked for. So, Sans often found himself bent over you in the moment he would get home in the wee hours before dawn, anxiety and fear thrashing around in his soul as his too-large eye scanned you over for injuries. Your soul would respond, of course, prompting you to wake just enough to murmur a soft greeting before wrapping your arms around him and cradling his skull to your chest.

 

That was all he needed to relax in your embrace...

 

And to wake up at the asscrack of dawn from the smell of breakfast and the sound of you yodeling your little heart out.

_Yodeling._

 

_stars, you can't get any more adorable than that._

 

He chortled groggily, scrubbing his eye socket as he stretched himself across the bed and lazily fed his Tamagotchi before he sat up and stumbled his way halfway down the stairs... Only to clumsily miss a step and fall the rest of the way down. Your "singing" cut short and he saw your head peek out of the kitchen from where he remained sprawled at the foot of the stairs, a look of concern tugging your lips into a rare frown. In the blink of an eye, you were crouched at his side, fussing over him and gently roving your fingers along the back of his skull to check for injuries. He hummed, reveling in the extra attention he was receiving and he leaned closer to press his cheek into the palm of your hand, nuzzling it.

 

You sighed in relief, then smiled gently. "Maybe we should invest in an electric stair lift for you if you're going to fall down the steps every morning."

 

Sans snorted, then leaned up to press a kiss against the corner of your mouth. "but then i couldn't fall for ya, sunshine."

 

You giggled and shook your head, returning his kiss with one that was so _loving_  and _warm_  that it made his cold and achy soul shudder in pure bliss.

 

You really were his _sunshine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it~!! Or that I actually wrote what you wanted o3o; I may actually end up adding a part two with some juicy bits if you catch my drift honhonhon
> 
> Like what I do~? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A0364H6B)
> 
> Until next time~


	2. Either a Little Too High or a Little Too Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bird spit is an expensive delicacy in China, or so you say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEEWOO WARNING SEXY TIMES AHEAD WEEWOO
> 
> Cover your eyes and look away if you're under 18~!
> 
> also this is my first time actually writing smut so... hopefully it's not totally terrible? lol

It was a common fact that Sans spent most of his time "daydreaming", as you would say.

 

He would spend hours on end doing nothing but just thinking about anything and everything, perfectly content to let his mind work its course. It was basically meditation, or so his therapist had told him all those years ago when he _had_  to see the quack. Bluntly speaking, he was just too lazy to force himself to do anything _but_  sit there and stare blankly at the wall all day long.

 

Sometimes you would ask him what he was thinking about and he would happily tell you the random mathematic formulas, quantum theories or when his next trip to the grocery store would be. He could still see the complete lack of comprehension on your face when he stated the fact that there's a theory that states spacetime is actually a superfluid that behaved more like ocean waves than anything else. You had lifted your hands in surrender and backed out of the room: the memory still drew a chuckle from him every now and then.

 

Other times, his mouth would set in a hard line and a faint flicker of angry red light would appear in his empty socket and you would know to let the matter drop.

 

You, however, were a different story.

 

Being the energetic and fidgety person you were, you always had to be doing _something_. From knitting to cleaning to yoga: you couldn't just _sit still_  and always seemed to have a new activity to perform from day to day. Thus, it was of no surprise to him that on his day off, you came home from your part-time job at the library with a massive book simply labeled: " _Facts_ ". He couldn't say what sort of facts it apparently contained, but it was seemingly enough to keep you amused.

 

Which is how you both ended up on the couch; him slumped against the armrest with a sleepy expression and you flipped over upside-down with your feet straight up in the air.

 

You made a scandalized noise, "Nutmeg is poisonous if injected in your veins?! But I _love_  nutmeg!"

 

Did you ever. He caught you sprinkling that crap on your cornbread and chicken nuggets before dumping a heaping helping of the powder straight into your mouth last week.

 

He cracked his eye open, casting you a lazy look. "that's _nuts_."

 

"Booooo. Low hanging fruit- _horses can't puke!?_ "

 

That made him snort and he stretched his limbs before relaxing further into the couch, itching briefly at the crack at the top of his head. He remained like that for a whole two minutes, then flopped over without warning and snuggled up against your side while dutifully feeding and playing with his Tamagotchi. You simply repositioned your arms so that you were holding the book high over your head, letting him nuzzle his face into your gut without complaint.

 

You gasped and looked at him solemnly, "Without saliva, we can't taste food."

 

"speak for yourself, slobberpuss. i'm made of magic." he mumbled, shoving the digital pet back into his pocket and wrapping his arms around you. "what else does it say?"

 

You tilted the book as your eyes scanned the next paragraph. "Bird spit is an expensive delicacy in China."

 

Sans lifted his head, his brow bones rising in disbelief. "really."

 

"Really!" you exclaimed and proceeded to read straight from the book. "It says; _"Bird's nest soup is an expensive delicacy made from rare bird's nests created from the saliva of edible-nest swiftlets. The nests, which have been used in Chinese cooking for over four centuries, are dissolved in water to make a broth which is believed to have exquisite flavor and possesses many health benefits."_ It kinda looks like rice noodles in chicken broth!"

 

He gave a noncommittal hum and lazily traced the pattern on your shirt, focusing on the pleased thrum of his soul from the direct contact with you. As you read random excerpts from the book, his fingers worked their way down to the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath to idly rub circles on your waist and stomach.

 

 "Chewing coffee beans eliminates bad breath and cleans radicals out of the bloodstream!" You rose your head up off the edge of the couch to look him in the eye. "Remind me to get some from the store? I bet they would taste good with horseradish dip!" 

 

Sans grimaced. "sure.." 

 

You smiled at him brilliantly and he couldn't help but wonder where you got your sense of taste from. Luckily for him, you were self aware enough to know that you were the _only_  person in the household that had a penchant for weird food and kept his meals graciously simple. When you could stick to the recipe, you were a damn good cook, but... You tended to throw in "extra ingredients" to "spice things up" and he had learned long ago that if you said a combination was good... It wasn't. 

 

Thankfully, you never got offended from his refusal to eat your odd concoctions.

 

As you randomly read out bits of information from the pages, skeletal fingers traced the band of your skirt and you chattered on, completely oblivious. Basking in your warmth, he allowed his mind to wander, focusing his attention more on his soul's desire to be as close to you as possible. He could feel your own soul gleaming brightly from within your chest, soothing and melting the ice inside him as though you were his very own ray of sunshine.

 

Well, technically... You _were._  

 

One hand trailed up your ribs and prodded at the wire of your bra while the other snapped the elastic of your panties, causing you to stutter in surprise and stop mid-sentence. His tell-tale grin was in place and his crimson eye's pupil shrank in a way the left you gulping thickly as you held the book directly in front of your face to hide the blush creeping up your neck.

 

The small move was innocent enough on your part, but it kicked his predator instincts into overdrive. The sound of your heart rate picking up speed brought down a broiling hunger that grew at the base of his spine and he could feel it seeping into his bones like liquid fire. His fingers twitched and tapped on your ribs and the feeling swept over him like an itch he couldn't quite scratch: an urge he couldn't quite control.

 

In an instant, Sans flipped himself over so that he hovered over you, staring into your eyes over the top of the book and a low growl hissed through his teeth. "i'm hungry."

 

You squeaked, surprised by his sudden tone, and you dropped the book when you attempted to right yourself by flailing your limbs, narrowly avoiding kneeing him in the back of the head. "I-I can make you some food!"

 

Somehow, his grin only grew despite being forced to dodge your legs as you accidentally somersaulted right off the couch and shot upright with a nervous laugh. He simply watched you like a hawk as you got to your feet and scurried around the furniture as you listed off a series of things you could whip up for him. Even after being together with him for quite some time, there would be moments that would leave you bashful when it came to getting... _Intimate_  and he honestly didn't mind. You were never _against_  it and were always happy to please him: you just tended to over-think things when you really needed to just let go and _have some fun_.

 

It took exactly seven steps for you to make it halfway to the kitchen before he suddenly lunged over the back of the couch with a burst of speed that caught you completely off guard.

 

With a calculated pounce, the skeleton had you pinned down, your wrists trapped in his grip and he chuckled whimsically at your questioning look. "where do _you_  think you're going?"

 

One of your caught hands pointed to the kitchen. "Uh... Food?"

 

He languidly looked you over and it suddenly dawned on you what he had _really_  meant.

 

"O-oh."

 

Pressing his teeth against the hollow of your throat, Sans chuckled and nosed at the collar of your shirt, squeezing your wrists briefly before slowly releasing them. "i'd rather _eat out_ , sunshine." He slithered down, crawling backwards until his chin was resting on your stomach; his eye never leaving your face and his hands ghosting over the edge of your shirt. "i have _tear_ -ible memory... do you like this shirt?"

 

You puffed moodily at the implication, but pushed his face off you so that you could shuck the article of clothing off. " _Yes!_  Don't even _think_  about ripping my clothes again!" 

 

His smirk turned cheeky as a tongue the color of his eye rolled free from his mouth and laved at the expanse of skin above the waistband of your skirt. The action smothered your faux-annoyance and you blushed darkly once again, half hiding your face behind your hands to get away from the intensity of his gaze. Using this as a distraction, he gripped both sides of your skirt and yanked it off you in one smooth motion, producing a high pitched yelp that he quickly stifled with a feverish kiss. Despite your previous shyness, you eagerly leaned forward, returning his kiss as best you could and during this, you didn't even notice his hand snaking around your back to unclasp your bra until it hung loosely on your shoulders.

 

"You _sneaky_  butt." You drew back with a playful glare, to which he responded by tugging the undergarment off and running his hands along your thighs, coaxing you to spread them. "Well, I appreciate you not ripping anything! It's such a waste of money and-"

 

Roughly, Sans tweaked your nipples, dragging a startled gasp from your throat. "as _tit_ illating as that is... i'd rather hear something _else._ "

 

To emphasize his point, he palmed your breast in one hand while the other stroked your panties. You jolted, instinctively gripping his forearm with both hands, which quickly snapped up to catch both your hands in his own while he continued his ministrations below. A nervous giggle bubbled past your lips at his light touch and with an amused quirk of his brow and firm press against your nub, the giggle became a quiet sigh. Holding your hands in his iron grip against your stomach, he lowered himself back down and drew his tongue across your clothed slit, followed up by him gently blowing cold air on the steadily growing wet spot.

 

He was so hard it _hurt_ , but he ignored it and _focused_. 

 

You writhed and managed to maneuver one of your hands so that you could at least clutch at his fingers. Sans, however, used his free hand to pull your underwear to one side and lapped zealously at your womanhood, rumbling in approval when your breathing caught in your throat, only to be pushed out by a small moan. Encouraged, he swiped his tongue up, circling your clit with the tip before nipping at it lightly: your hips jerked and your face grew flushed from your rising body temperature. Another pass and he dipped the appendage into your core, wriggling it in as far as he could before withdrawing it and returning his attention to your clit.

 

He worked you up until you were dripping wet and panting with need before pulling back completely - ignoring your juices that dribbled down his chin - and releasing your hands. You opened your mouth to protest, but he shushed you and practically tore your panties off completely and tugged the band of his shorts under his throbbing cock, stroking it a few times as he leaned over you.

 

" _fuck_ -"

 

"Swear jar." You sighed airily, wrapping your arms around his neck as he drifted closer to lap at your neck.

 

_oh. right. you hate cussing._

 

Aside from that passing thought, Sans didn't pay the comment much mind as he took hold of his red girth and rubbed the drooling tip against your folds, then _i n c h e d_ himself inside. You both keened and his fingers dug into the too-soft flesh of your hips as he rolled his hips forward and hilted himself in you. There was a brief moment of peace and serenity as he relished the feeling of you clenching tightly on him, whimpers escaping you while he soaked in the pleasure of your warmth. He sighed in relief at your union, slowly drawing back until all that remained inside was his bulbous tip...

 

His grin stretched wider and with a brutal thrust, he set a mind-numbingly fast pace.

 

The delicious cry his rough actions brought out of you was music to his ears and every twitch - every _tremble_  only spurred him on. You could feel every bump and ridge on his cock dragging against your insides, causing moans to tumble freely from your mouth as you clung to his neck for dear life. The rocking motions pulled you back and forth on the carpet, irritating your bare back but neither of you seemed to care, moving your hips in an attempt to give your partner as much pleasure as possible.

 

A hard thrust had his tip jabbing at your cervix and you shuddered as you felt a red-hot wave building low in your gut. "O-oh..! _Oh!_  God- _Sans!_ "

 

He practically _purred_ at the sound of desperation in your voice. "hmm? are you getting _tighter_ , sunshine?"

 

Sans reached up, prying one of your arms away from his neck so that you could cling to his hand and he brushed his teeth against your knuckles in a kiss. "P-please-" He rammed back into you as hard as he could and you squealed. " _Sans!_ Puh-please!"

 

A quiet beeping emitted from his pocket.

 

His smile was pure evil as he jerked his hips to a dead stop.

 

The protesting whine from you was immediate and you were practically in tears from the sudden loss of friction. He reveled in it, gleefully watching as you weakly bucked your hips and begged him to keep going- that you were _so, so close_ , but he ignored you in favor for reaching into his pocket. Taking out the Tamagotchi, he turned his full attention on the digital pet, leisurely pressing the buttons to clean up its mess, to feed it, to play with it... He could feel your inner muscles clenching and throbbing, but he was more than _patient_  to wait for-

 

"Are you _fucking kidding me_!?" You hissed in a rare moment of anger.

 

Pleased that he _finally_  got you to break that happy, loving facade, Sans plunged his hips back and smashed forward into your own while tossing the egg-shaped device over his shoulder carelessly. " _swear jar._ "

 

You couldn't even form a response, moaning loudly as he at last granted you mercy by licking his thumb and circling it over your clit once... Twice...

 

On the third pass, the coil in your loins exploded outwards and your back arched off the ground as a cry tore its way out of you. Your legs spasmed, your body broke out into a cold sweat and your eyes clenched shut all while Sans continued his brutal pace. Your heat quivered and grew  _more_  slick, allowing his dick to pump in and out of you with ease: much to his _pleasure_. By the time you fell back against the floor, spent and panting heavily, his thrusts were beginning to become more and more erratic and his continued stimulation on your most sensitive parts threatened to be _too much_.

 

"y-yes... fuh... _sunshine-_ " Sans tipped into you one final time and he groaned loudly, signaling his release as you felt warm spurts hit your womb. " _g-god_  i love you."

 

He sat back, peered down at you as you folded your hands over your heart as a watery and way-too-happy smile broke out on your face and you sniffled grossly. For a moment, the tears had him panicking: was he _too_  rough? Had he gone too far? Did he _hurt_  you? He didn't even know what he would do if he had actually harmed you and his anxiety came down on him like a tidal wave as he worriedly looked you over for any obvious injuries-

 

"s-shit, i hurt you, didn't i? _fuck_ , i'm-" His fingers found his eye socket, threatening to hook inside them but you grabbed his wrist before he could do so. "i didn't mean-"

 

You shook your head vigorously and reached up, your hands gently took his face and pulled his head down so that you could cradle him against your chest. "I-I love you too! I'm... I'm just..." An awkward laugh passed your lips and you peppered his skull with kisses. "You know I get emotional after... Er... After we... _You know_!"

 

"you get emotional after sex," he helpfully supplied after his initial fear started to settle down.

 

Your face lit up like a tomato and you sternly corrected him, "After _love-making!_ " 

 

Sans snorted through a yawn, wrapping his arms around you tightly; he was inclined to agree, as post-sex drowsiness began to overtake him.

 

Later that day, he woke up sprawled out on the couch with the television playing a sappy Rom-Com and you were by his side, happily munching on a handful of roasted coffee beans coated in wasabi.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooo boy I don't think that turned out TOO bad, but I have been wrong before... 
> 
> [Sonamyluffer1011's Trade Fic~](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267784)
> 
> Like what I do~? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A0364H6B)
> 
> Until next time dearies~ Taa~


End file.
